This Vice of Lying
by EmilyScarlett
Summary: Fill for a kink meme prompt in which Grantaire unwillingly becomes a police spy after being imprisoned and makes a deal to save Enjolras from the barricade.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So, the full prompt is:**

 **Grantaire is a police spy. He was not one from the start but was offered the position after being jailed for a minor crime, and someone recognizes him as the drunkard who hangs around the ABC society.**  
 **Grantaire, knowing that all of his friends are probably going to die anyway, helps them in exchange for Enjolras not being imprisoned or killed.**  
 **I want Grantaire to really hate himself for doing what he is doing but not being able to go back on it and he really, really wants his Apollo alive after the revolution.**  
 **Maybe the revolution succeeds for once, maybe it fails. I just want him to be outed as a traitor to the others. Maybe before his other friends are killed, the guards outs him? Maybe they find something on him that reveals his position?**  
 **If you for the whole thing with his other friends dying and so, I would not mind completely broken!Grantaire who becomes even more obsessed with Enjolras and keeping him alive. (Maybe even non-con, with Grantaire crying and sobbing even though he is the one who is forcing himself on Enjolras)**

 **I will admit I have taken some liberties with it. So, hope you enjoy it.**

 **TW: Non-con and kidnapping.**

Grantaire really wasn't as bothered about being in prison as one might have thought he would be. What did it matter really when soon enough his friends, his Apollo, would be dead? He could see plainly what the outcome of their attempt revolution would be and yet he was powerless to stop them. They would not heed his attempts at reasonable discourse, branding him a cynic and a drunk. They were not wrong, it was a drunken brawl that led him to be here after all.

His musings were interrupted by the sound of voices approaching the cell where he was being held.

"-swear, sir, it's that drunkard who's always hanging around la café Musain with the revolutionaries." The two men had arrived at the door of Grantaire's cell and both observed him intently. Grantaire did not bother to acknowledge them.

"You there," said the most senior of the men, lifting his chin towards Grantaire. "Is what my colleague says true? You are a companion of Les Amis de l'ABC?" Grantaire did not respond.

"Come now," resumed the man, "I see that you are. You would have questioned what I meant if not."

"What of it?" replied Grantaire scathingly, seeing no benefit in remaining silent now.

"You seem to have found yourself in quite a scrape."

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

"You could help yourself out of it."

"Indeed?" Grantaire was sceptical to say the least.

"Look here, I'm told you don't believe a word of the pretty lies that come out of your leader's mouth. You know how their attempt at a coup will end; they will all die. Do not be amongst them. Watch them for us, report their plans, and you will be cleared of all charges against you." An idea was forming in Grantaire's head. If he could but ensure… but no! It was wrong, even he, low as he was, was not a man to betray his friends. However, if he could but save the one who mattered above all else…

"That is within your power?"

"Indeed, my good man, I am the Prefecture of Police."

"But I, Monsieur le préfecture, am not one who would betray his friends to save himself. There is one more thing you must give me."

"If it is reasonable." Grantaire already knew he disliked this man and his pretence of cordiality.

"The leader of the group, he will be spared. Ensure that he will not be imprisoned or executed and I will do all that you ask. Give me your word on this or you shall have no help from me." This was a gamble. The Prefecture obviously needed intelligence on Les Amis but with this request Grantaire understood that he was asking a great deal.

"That is impossible, such a man cannot simply be allowed to wander free. He is too dangerous! He would ignite more rebellion."

"Then I will not spy for you." The Prefecture seemed stricken at seeing his chance at inside intelligence slipping away. He took a breath, seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then carried on with resolution.

"Such a man could not be allowed free reign of the streets, and you will not allow him to be imprisoned here," Grantaire was immediately on guard at the implication of that word here. "Perhaps we can then come to a compromise that he will not be imprisoned by us but he will be… kept watch over by you."

"What do you mean?" replied Grantaire, suspicious.

"If you wish him to not be imprisoned he will remain in your charge, you will watch over him, and if he is found in the streets he will be executed."

This was too much. It was at once everything he had ever wished for and something that he could not bear. Grantaire would be near Enjolras, would be living with Enjolras, would be taking care of Enjolras! Yet at the same time he would have betrayed him, would be imprisoning him. He would never be forgiven and yet, there was no other way. The revolution would fail even if he chose to rot here in jail and Enjolras would die. He could not allow that to happen, he could not bear it. As much as Enjolras would hate him, he had to save him.

Grantaire rose and made his way resignedly to the bars of the cell.

"Very well, Monsieur le préfecture, you have a deal." He held his hand though the bars for the man to shake.

"Very good," he said, grasping Grantaire's hand.

"You will report here to me at the end of each day." He turned to the man next to him.

"Well, release him then!" He turned to go but then stopped and said to Grantaire, "What is the name the leader, the man you want saving? And what does he look like?"

Grantaire hesitated.

"Come now, it wouldn't do to have him accidentally harmed would it? Besides, you ought to get used to providing us with information anyhow."

"Enjolras," Grantaire choked out, feeling like the lowest, vilest creature on the earth, "His name is Enjolras, he has blonde hair that shines like sunlight and eyes as blue as the sky."

"Very good."

* * *

So began Grantaire's unwilling treachery. He would go to meetings, listen to the speeches, take note of the plans, and desperately try to convince his friends to cease their plans, to give up their foolish dreams, to live. He did not succeed. If anything his demoralisation only made them more fervent.

After the meetings he would go to the Prefecture and report it all and he would hate himself. He despised himself for betraying his friends, in effect signing their death warrants, just because he selfishly could not live without Enjolras also being alive. He could not bear the thought of a man who already all but despised him being dead.

He began to prepare for after. He knew he could not hope to keep Enjolras in the tiny dishevelled apartment that was his current lodging. Not only did Enjolras deserve so much better, he would escape within a day and if he were found on the streets then he would be executed. Grantaire would have to find somewhere more secure where he could hold Enjolras. His main problem in this aspect was lack of funds. He did not have the money to buy a house suitable for the situation. He had considered trying to renegotiate his deal with the Prefecture but he realised that it would be futile. The Prefecture did not care whether Enjolras lived or died, so long as he was no more trouble. If Grantaire lost Enjolras he would be just as happy to execute him and have the whole thing over with. Grantaire would have to find some other way to obtain the necessary funds.

As Grantaire made his way to the Prefecture that evening to make his report he was consumed by gloomy thoughts of the future. Even though Enjolras would survive, his other friends would die and he would have had a hand in making it happen.

He arrived at the police station and was let in by the guards, who recognised him well enough by now. As he made his way through the station he ignored the scorn he felt directed at him by the men there and continued on to the Prefecture.

He knew that these men hated him. If there is one thing that the brothers in a watch house understand, it is kinship. To see that betrayed, even for their gain, cast loathing upon the betrayer, upon Grantaire. He took their contempt quietly, bowed his head to their hate-filled comments. It was no more than he deserved after all.

He made his way into the Prefecture's office and told what he had to report; Les Amis would outreach and try to gain the support of other groups within the city but that they could not hope to reach them all with so few men.

"Good," responded the Prefecture, smiling at him. "This gives us an opportunity. You will offer to go rouse one of the groups, and you will fail." At this announcement Grantaire sensed another opportunity for gain. He could not achieve the funds he needed through pleading with the man he knew, but it could be possible through bargaining.

"No." stated Grantaire quite adamantly.

"Excuse me?" asked the Prefecture.

"No, I agreed to spy for you. This is not spying. This is sabotage."

"It hardly matters. You know they will lose in the end regardless."

"It matters to me. That is a betrayal too far. I will not do it."

"Perhaps we can come to another agreement?"

Grantaire hesitated once more. He knew that he wanted the achieve here, what he must achieve, however he hesitated before the extent of his betrayal. This was not simply providing information. This was actively taking action to ensure that his friends would fail, that all but one of them would die. But it was for Enjolras…

"Five thousand francs immediately. After that a further one hundred francs a month in perpetuum."

"I'm afraid that is impossible-"

"I will not negotiate. You may think me without morals and willing to sell out my friends but even I have limits. This is my price, either agree or make do with only information from me."

"The monthly payments will have to be accounted for."

"I will open a bank account. Pay it in there for reasons of 'services to the state'." said Grantaire, thoroughly unimpressed with the man's attempts. It was easy to see the Prefecture was getting angry now. He had a colder look in his eyes as he laid aside his previous attempts at joviality.

"Very well. I will give you what you wish but you must give me what I wish in return."

"I am already giving you what you wish. I will sabotage my friends efforts for you."

"Something more than that," said the Prefecture, standing. "I see your purpose here. You need the money to look after the man you would save. This Enjolras." The man was taking off his jacket now and advancing on Grantaire.

"It's quite obvious that your interest in him goes beyond the platonic," the man continued as he proceeded to undress.

"You would do all this for him and now you demand this money, no doubt so that you can give him some measure of comfortable lifestyle. As if that will make him forgive you, as if he could ever return your affection, because it's quite clear from what you've told me that he does not." He had backed Grantaire into the wall and now seized his shoulders and gripped them harshly.

"To be clear, what you require of me is…" Grantaire's voice broke and he could not continue the sentence.

"Is than you remove your clothes, bend over my desk, and stay as still as possible." Grantaire began to struggle and would have been able to push the man away if it had not been for the words he continued to hiss into his ear.

"Do this- do this and you can take your love, take your money, and live out the rest of both your lives with him in perfect comfort. Don't you want that? Don't you want to be able to give him anything he wants?"

Grantaire stilled, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he silently began to undress. He could do this, for Enjolras. He kept that thought in mind as he did as he was bid and bent over the desk. He thought of Enjolras, how he could possibly one day earn his forgiveness if he could make him happy enough, when he felt himself entered. He though of the time that he would get to spend with Enjolras as the Prefecture moved inside him and as the man spent inside him he gave up thinking on specifics and just thought of Enjolras' golden hair, his face, his rare smiles.

The Prefecture released him and he dressed quickly and went to leave, fighting through the pain, eager to leave as soon as possible. He was stopped at the door by the Prefecture's voice.

"I expect your report of how you undertook one of these groups and failed to convince them tomorrow. You shall have your 5000 francs then." Grantaire nodded his head in acknowledgement and then left.

* * *

This is how Grantaire came to offer himself to go to the Barrière du Maine, knowing he would fail, knowing that the incident would only make Enjolras distain him more.

His only consolation was that he now had the funds to purchase a house that was suitable for Enjolras and the cost… well, there was nothing he would not suffer for his love. It was best forgotten. He spent days looking at houses in Paris, for it would truly be better to stay where he knew, he could easily get what he needed on a day to day basis and minimise time spent away from Enjolras. Partly so that Enjolras would not escape, as he would surely try to in the beginning. (He would come round though Grantaire promised himself, he would.) Partly because Grantaire had no interest in spending time anywhere that Enjolras wasn't when he didn't have to. Yes, it would have to be Paris. Besides, no one pays attention to abnormal behaviour in Paris.

He looked at dozens of houses with owners desperately trying to sell every good quality and ignore all of the bad. They were all very nice houses but none of them were good enough. If Enjolras was going to reside in it then Grantaire wanted it to be perfect. In the end he had to settle for the best of them as his friends had begun to notice that he was not spending all day drinking in the Musain as was his wont. The house was pretty enough, he supposed. It had cost him four thousand francs which meant that he had a thousand left over to spruce the place up. Its main attraction was a walled garden, with good sturdy walls too high to climb over, that had a single gate which permitted entrance. The house itself was not overly large; it had a kitchen, dining room, parlour, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. The latter three rooms were located upstairs. The kitchen was in a mild state of disrepair that did not make it unusable and the rest of the house was perfectly sound. Having the kitchen fixed up to his exacting standards took a reasonable amount of effort but he would accept no less for Enjolras. Grantaire also took great pains in having the larger bedroom redone. He made sure that every single detail was perfect, down to the colour of the curtains (red, of course) and the material of the bedding (silk). When it was finished the room had attained a level of luxury that one would be hard pressed to find outside of the estates of the most affluent families in France. The parlour, with it's mahogany furniture, tall Biedermeier bookcases, and heavy velvet curtains, was perhaps only a step behind in luxury. There was no need to have a lock installed on the bedroom door as one was already fitted. He did have them fitted to the latches on the windows however, just simple padlocks to go through the latches. As a precaution he had this done in all the other rooms and claimed a fear of burglars to justify it to the workman. He acquired a chain and padlock for the gate as well as various books that he had heard Enjolras mention and thought himself as prepared as he could reasonably be.

* * *

At last the time of revolution came and it was decided that it would take place at Lemarque's funeral. As Grantaire reported this to the Prefecture he felt both relief and trepidation. He was relieved that this would all be over and that he could stop lying. He also knew that he would be the direct cause of his friends deaths. As he was about to leave the Prefecture grabbed his arm to detain him. Grantaire shuddered at that man touching him again.

"The guards that will go to the barricade at the Musain have been informed of our arrangement," the Prefecture assured. "I will keep my word."

"How honourable of you." replied Grantaire scathingly.

"Are you not happy? You will have your love by the end of the week."

"For than I thank you but by the end of the week all my friends will be dead and I will be, at least in part, the cause." The man nodded and Grantaire hated him, hated his pretend understanding and his insincere sympathy.

"Your Enjolras will be subdued and you will both be brought here. You will then give me the details of the bank account into which the one hundred francs are to be deposited every month. Then we can part, on cordial terms, our deal concluded." Grantaire held his tongue and nodded. He knew how precarious his position was now that he had told the Prefecture everything he needed. He could not afford to disagree with him. His arm was released and he fled the room and the station, thankful that he would only have to return there once more.

* * *

They day of the funeral had arrived, the flame had been ignited, and now they all sat behind the barricade, waiting for a second attack. Grantaire looked around at these men, the first real friends he'd ever had, and realised that they will be gone by morning. Joly, Bahorel, Bossuet, Jehan Prouvaire, Feuilly, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Marius. These are the names that he knows he will carry with him from this day on and he wishes that he could simply confess everything to them. That he could fall to his knees and beg for their forgiveness because the worst thing- the worst thing is that these men will die thinking him a friend. They will die never knowing of his treachery. They will die thinking him one of them and that is the though that haunts him. He doesn't deserve to live in their last thoughts as a friend but rather as an enemy. Someone to be hated, despised.

He'd already seen one spy being dealt with and he wishes that he would be treated the same because in the end it will make no difference to the outcome but instead will allow them to treat him as he deserves instead of offering affectionate smiles and fraternal grasps. He can't risk anything that might compromise his deal though so he holds his peace and watches as his internal torment rages.

He saw an older man in a National Guard's uniform being allowed over the barricade but could not stir himself to go and investigate what was happening. Enjolras was no fool, he wouldn't let a National Guardsman over for no reason. Even as he was thinking these thoughts he saw his friends turn their guns on the man and disarm him. A whispered and fervent conversation passed between the man and Enjolras; Enjolras seemed to be becoming more and more furious with each word that passed. Finally, he turned around violently and called Grantaire over. Grantaire of course hurried to his side swiftly, with all the eagerness of a dog heeding its master's call. He could not bring himself to be ashamed of that; he knew exactly how Enjolras owned every inch of his being and had long since accepted it.

"Grantaire," said Enjolras, seething with fury. Grantaire was not sure if it was directed at him or the man who was still held at gunpoint. "This man claims that he is not a National Guardsman. That he is in fact a volunteer. He offers as proof of his earnestness that he heard the Guardsmen laughing and jesting about a spy in our midst. One who has been spying on us for months and who reported to the Prefecture. He claims that he heard them say that this spy was the drunkard who spends his days at the Musain, who passes his time with our society though not a revolutionary himself. In short, Grantaire, he claims that this spy is you. I trust that there is no truth to this?"

He didn't believe it, Grantaire could see. He looked around at his friends and saw that with one denial from him they were prepared to take this man and place him with the other prisoner, and look upon the truth as no more than a vicious attempt to break their ranks with slander. He gazed and beheld all of this and yet he could not bring himself to deny it now that he had been presented with an opportunity to tell the truth without jeopardising his deal.

"Yes," admitted Grantaire, bowing his head dejectedly and falling to his knees at Enjolras' feet. "It is true." For a moment Enjolras seemed stunned into silence. In any other situation Grantaire would have marvelled at such a thing actually being possible. Now however, he felt too wretched to do anything but stare dejectedly at the ground. Finally Enjolras managed to compose himself enough to utter one choked word.

"Why?"

"For you." Grantaire murmured, finally mustering the courage to lift his head and look into the other man's eyes. What he saw there was rage so intense that he cringed under its fervour.

"Me?" This was hissed and Grantaire could feel within it the weight of the fury that Enjolras was barely holding in check.

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, yes," Grantaire was speaking quickly now, needing to confess. "That is the deal. I spied for him and you will live. You will be safe after the barricade falls."

"The barricade will not fall!"

"It will, I'm sorry Enjolras but it will." Enjolras seemed to be about to hit him and Grantaire would have welcomed it, would have welcomed any small chance to be punished for his betrayal but Enjolras restrained himself and merely delivered his edict.

"You will be judged for your crimes by the people of the Republic. Until such time you will be restrained."

"Very well." said Grantaire, knowing no such thing would ever happen.

"Put him with the other spy."

Grantaire was taken into the café and bound to one of the posts so that he was sitting against it and if his friends were unnecessarily rough with him, well, he could hardly blame them.

They all came to see him that night, after the other spy had been taken out and killed and he was left in the room alone. Most came with harsh words but some were not satisfied with that. Bahorel gave him a blow to the stomach when he had finished his tirade, while Combeferre and Courfeyrac decided that he did not deserve to sit, and retied him standing with a rope around his neck so that if he did not stand on the very balls of his feet he would begin to choke. Feuilly spat on his face before he left. Grantaire took all these torments meekly and with a sense of relief. They knew what he was. They would not go to their graves thinking him a loyal friend. They could gain some measure of satisfaction from giving him what he deserved.

* * *

Eventually it became clear to Grantaire that the barricade was under attack again. He watched in a sort of daze as Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, Bousset, and Feuilly ran upstairs while Enjolras pulled the steps out and climbed up after them. He supposed that the rest must be dead. He felt curiously numb as that thought occurred, and he thought that the room might be spinning. He was vaguely aware of soldiers entering the café, and of gunshots, and of a shout of:

"Not that one, he's to be taken to the Prefecture along with the one tied up downstairs."

There seemed to be a ringing sound in his ear. Then someone was untying him and leading him along to a carriage at the end of the street. Inside he found Enjolras, bleeding from a head wound, not moving, with his hands tied behind his back. The thrill of panicked fear that he felt cleared his mind rather abruptly and he rushed forwards, crying Enjolras' name, trying to gain some response from the man.

"He's alright," said the man who had lead him to the carriage. "He's only unconscious. We had to knock him out; he wouldn't stop fighting." He wanted to tear apart these men who'd hurt Enjolras but he knew that it would be better for the both of them in the long run if he got in the carriage and saw his deal with the Prefecture completed. Then he could take Enjolras home and keep him safe and make him happy and make sure that no one would ever hurt him again.

It was not a long journey from the barricade to the police station and Grantaire spent the entire time anxiously watching Enjolras' face, checking for any sign of awareness or discomfort.

When they reach the station Enjolras was carried in by Grantaire, who refused to allow anyone else to touch him. There were blatant stares from the watchmen as they travelled the corridors and Grantaire supposed that they must make quite a sight. Him the ugly, bedraggled, unappealing betrayer whom they all hate, carrying an unconscious man who looks as if he is a god come to earth to bless mere mortals with his presence.

When he reached the Prefecture's office he was greeted by the man with a jovial smile, as if they were old friends.

"Grantaire, my good man! How nice it is to finally see the man who caused all this trouble and who you went through no small amount of trouble for. Well not to worry about that, he's yours now. How pretty he is!" Grantaire wanted to curl around Enjolras and protect his from this man's poisonous gaze.

"He is not mine! He does not belong to me!" growled Grantaire, indignant at the implication. If anything it was Grantaire who was owned, body and soul, by Enjolras.

"No, no, of course not. Now if you will give me the details of your bank account you may leave and our deal will be concluded."

Grantaire laid Enjolras down tenderly in the chair opposite the desk and proceeded to write the details of his bank account on the piece of paper that was offered to him. That done he offered the page to the Prefecture and took Enjolras up in his arms once more.

"Very good," said the Prefecture. "The carriage which brought you here will take you anywhere you wish to go. I bid you farewell." Grantaire was about to leave but was called back with a final warning.

"And remember, if he is found on the streets he will be executed, so do be sure to keep him… secure."

Grantaire nodded his head and departed as swiftly as he was able, burdened down as he was with Enjolras' unresponsive form. He carefully laid Enjolras in the carriage and told the driver where to go. As they pulled away from the station he was glad to think that he would never return there. He sat with Enjolras' head in his lap, gazing at his almost painfully beautiful face, wishing he could run his hands through his golden hair but not daring to go so far while his love was unconscious.

As they drove on Grantaire was struck with the thought that they were heading towards their home. Their home. His and Enjolras'. Enjolras would live with him. Would stay with him, and be cared for by him, and would be made happy by him. He had Enjolras now, and he never had to let him go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** **So did I mention this whole work was originally only supposed to be 2000 words long and a single chapter at first? Then it was supposed to finish with this chapter. *laughs hysterically* It's taking over my life! Anyway, if anyone is wondering why it took so long, that is why. I was trying to find a way to finish it. Then I gave up and admitted that there is going to be at least another chapter. So, enjoy..**

Grantaire had Enjolras situated in his bed and it had to be admitted that he looked very well there. He had to take a moment to admire him. He felt a tension he had been carrying in his shoulders since the barricade release now that he had Enjolras safe and secure. Now that he could be sure that his love would not be harmed. But really, Grantaire didn't have time for this self-indulgent appreciation; he had preparations to make to be ready for when Enjolras awoke.

The first thing he did was to secure the windows and doors of the house as well as the gate which lead out on to the street. He was not delusional; he knew that Enjolras would be angry when he awoke, that he would want to escape. He would come to be happy here Grantaire hoped. After all, he only had to ask for something and Grantaire would do his best to provide it.

Secondly, he went to attend to Enjolras. The revolutionary had a wound on his forehead from where he had been knocked unconscious which Grantaire took great care in cleaning and bandaging. As he unbound Enjolras' wrists he saw that they had been chafed raw by the rough rope that had been used and Grantaire felt sick in his stomach as he repeated the same process of cleaning and bandaging. Besides these injuries Enjolras had faired rather well considering the vicious fighting that had taken place.

After having cleaned up the water and bandages Grantaire was caught in a dilemma. Enjolras would surely be hungry when he awoke and Grantaire wished to have something to offer him. However, in order to prepare something he would have to leave his Apollo alone. Grantaire did not want to do that as he would surely be disorientated when he awoke and he did not wish for him to be alarmed or even frightened. He compromised by simply taking some bread and cheese from the kitchen and bringing it up to the master bedroom. He wished that he had something better to offer but he could not spare the time. He relocked the bedroom door before he settled into a chair by the bed to wait and fell to contemplating the divine visage before him.

It was sometime before Enjolras showed signs of stirring. His forehead crumpled only slightly but Grantaire caught the movement immediately and moved to grasp Enjolras' hand.

"Enjolras? Enjolras, can you heard me? Are you well?" Enjolras' eyes flickered open and after a moment focused on Grantaire. He tried to speak but could not manage more than a dry croak.

"Of course, you require water. Forgive me, mon ange, I ought to have realised." Grantaire fumbled for the tumbler and jug set on the bedside table and shakily pour the water. He found he was very nervous now that he was confronted with actually facing Enjolras. Still he offered the cup to Enjolras carefully, tenderly, helping him to drink, careful not to tip the cup to far and spill water over him or make him choke. When Enjolras had drunk his fill he took the cup away and place it on the side.

"Grantaire, what…?" Enjolras trailed off, still looking confused.

"Shhh, it's alright, you're safe now. Don't worry, I have taken care of everything."

At this Enjolras' eyes suddenly regained their habitual clarity and he recognised in them the same fury he had seen at the barricade.

"You bastard. You traitor! You-!" Enjolras did not restrain himself as he had when first discovering his treachery at the barricade and launched himself at Grantaire, scratching and hitting anywhere he could reach. Grantaire feared that he would aggravate his head injury if he continued to move so violently and begged him to stop lest he harm himself.

"Please Enjolras, you will hurt yourself, please-" However, he made no move to restrain him, despite the physical ease with which he could do so.

His pleas were cut off when Enjolras pushed him backwards violently and he fell to the ground. He gazed up at his Apollo from where he had fallen and realised with a pang of anguish that Enjolras was crying.

"Dead," he sobbed, looking no less vicious in tears. "They're all dead because of you. Our friends are dead because of you!" Enjolras gave a cry that was in equal parts rage and sadness and marched towards the door, barely slowing when he reached it and starting in surprise when he found it locked. He slowly turned to Grantaire and looked upon him with livid eyes.

"Open the door Grantaire." This was uttered quietly, almost as if Enjolras' rage had surpassed the violence of shouting and was now concentrated into one small sentence which threatened to explode once again with the slightest provocation.

"No, forgive me. I cannot." said Grantaire, cringing at Enjolras' anger even as he pulled himself to his feet.

"You cannot." It was both a statement and a question, still spoken in that terribly level tone.

"No, I'm sorry Enjolras, truly I am. You cannot leave here, it would mean your death. If you are found you will be executed. I will not allow that to happen." This was, it seemed, the trigger that was necessary to set Enjolras back to shouting.

"You will not! You will not allow it! How dare you! What right have you to decide such a thing for me? What right have you to deny me my freedom? None! You have none! I demand that you release me this instant! I would rather risk death than remain your prisoner!" Grantaire had been slowly folding in on himself under the weight on Enjolras' tirade but at this last proclamation he rushed forward and grasped Enjolras' hands gently.

"No, you are not a prisoner Enjolras. Never! You have freedom of the house and garden and you may do whatever you wish. If you have need of or wish for anything you need only ask for it. Truly Enjolras, anything at all. I only wish to make you happy."

"Will you forcibly stop me if I attempt to leave?"

"I'm sorry; I must. You cannot die."

"Then I am a prisoner."

* * *

Enjolras was indeed given free reign of the house, although admittedly he was not permitted out into the garden without Grantaire to watch over him, despite the locked gate and high walls. He used this freedom to avoid Grantaire as much as he possibly could. To achieve this end he usually remained in his bedroom, which Grantaire would never enter without Enjolras' permission now that he was conscious to give it. Occasionally though he would come and sit in the parlour or would venture out into the garden, saying that the room was stifling him. The moments when he was allowed in Enjolras' presence were like heaven to the young man. He would take care not to disturb Enjolras' by staring at him too openly or being too loud. In fact, whenever he was present Grantaire sat very still and quiet and snuck glances at him whenever he could be sure that Enjolras wouldn't see and be bothered by it.

That's not to say that Grantaire was oblivious, however. Even in the midst of the ecstasy created by Enjolras' presence he could see that the revolutionary was unhappy and this caused Grantaire a great deal of anxiety. He seemed to somehow perpetually exist in a state of both joy and constant worry. Everyday the worry became stronger and the joy weaker. Enjolras would do little more than stare off into space and frown. It was not difficult to see where his thoughts took him. Most days Grantaire could barely convince him to eat some small morsel of food and drink a little water; Enjolras would take nothing stronger.

Grantaire desperately tried offering him more and more appealing dishes and fine wines. He offered books that he knew Enjolras used to enjoy, offered to buy new ones if that was what Enjolras wished. All of his attempts were resolutely ignored. This continued on and on as Grantaire despaired of what to do until one afternoon, an entire month after the barricade had fallen, when Enjolras had situated himself in the parlour having been unable to remain in the bedroom any longer.

It became obvious as Grantaire entered the room with a bowl of onion soup to offer to Enjolras that the revolutionary was painfully thin and clearly unwell. He was seated by the window, staring at the wall without really seeing it. The light that streamed in threw the sharp angles of his face and body into relief, drawing attention to his emaciated state. Grantaire hesitantly approached the chair in which Enjolras had placed himself.

"Enjolras? I have some soup for you. Do you think you could manage to eat it?" Enjolras continued to stare at the wall without acknowledging Grantaire.

"Please, Enjolras. You must eat."

"Must I?" His voice was listless, as though he could not even bring himself to be angry anymore. Grantaire was horrified. Surely that did not mean… Enjolras could not truly wish to die, at least not this way. Not when dying meant giving up. That could not be the reason so what was it?

"Please." Grantaire entreated, almost in tears knowing that Enjolras was upset and that he did not know how to help.

"No."

"At least tell me why not. Please Enjolras, at least that."

"Why not?," Enjolras laughed bitterly. "Because I choose not to. Because that is my choice; it is the only thing I have control over now." That was… a relief actually. Enjolras did not wish to die and this was something that he could fix. This was a way in which he could make Enjolras happy.

"If you had control again, complete control, would you then eat?"

"Perhaps. Although I fail to see how I could have any control when you refuse to allow me to leave." Enjolras said scornfully

"Me. Control me." Grantaire explained meekly.

"What?"

"Surely you must know that I would do anything you asked of me. Anything that doesn't bring you harm," Grantaire amended, realising the first statement was not entirely true. "I propose you do just that. Command me, control me, punish me for my transgressions against you and our friends if you will. I would submit to anything that would make you happy or give you some measure of satisfaction."

"Do anything? You would follow my orders, obey me? Why? When you have me captive and undoubtedly at your mercy, you would subvert our roles? I do not believe you."

"I would not harm you; not ever. My entire purpose in this convoluted plot has been to keep you from harm; that I have told you already. But there is more than that. I wish more than anything to please you, to have you be pleased with me. I always have. Did I not offer to black your boots once? I said it as if in jest I know but I knew then that I would be refused had I offered in seriousness, for you had better and brighter lieutenants. But now… now you have a reason to accept; as a reparation, as a chance at dealing out the justice that the law will not give, as a opportunity to regain the control you seem to think you have lost. Even simply because it pleases you to see me submit to your whim. Any of these reasons will suffice but please Enjolras, make use of me. I will beg if I must."

Enjolras looked upon this picture of contrition and found that in his anger he truly did wish to see the man suffer. He wished to punish him for his betrayal, to seek revenge for the friends he had lost, for the martyrdom taken from him. He internally preached to himself about the rights of man, the right to freedom and equality. What Grantaire was offering would subjugate him and Enjolras should not allow it. Even so, he asked himself, why should he uphold Grantaire's rights when his own have been taken from him? He had been given to Grantaire as though he were a possession, a reward for Grantaire's services to the Prefecture. He had been stripped of his own rights so was it not fair that he should do the same to his captor? In that moment he made his decision.

"Kneel."

Grantaire obeyed hurriedly, dropping to his knees by Enjolras' chair without hesitation. He was desperate to prove to Enjolras that he would obey, that he was eager to even.

"Now tell me again why you want this to happen."

"So that you will eat."

"And?"

"So that you have back the control that I have taken from you. So that you can punish me for my betrayal and because it will please you."

"Very well. You will go out today and get me the things that I require to punish you with. Bring me a pen, ink, and some paper and I will write you a list."

Grantaire retrieved the requested items from the desk and, after a moment of hesitation, knelt back down beside Enjolras to wait. When the list was completed it was handed back to Grantaire and Enjolras bid him leave.

Grantaire rose and was about to leave the room when he turned back timidly.

"Enjolras?," He waited for Enjolras to look at him in acknowledgement before continuing. "Will you… that is to say would you… eat now? Please? If the soup is not to your liking I will get something better, only please eat. Please?"

"The soup is fine." Enjolras picked it up and began to eat, albeit slowly.

"Thank you." Grantaire sighed relieved and almost grateful. He then left to acquire the items that had been requested but not without first checking the locks on the doors and windows and ensuring that he took the keys with him.

* * *

Enjolras spent the hours in which Grantaire was gone in contemplation. As soon as he was alone he had tried both doors and all the windows and found the locks to be solid and unbreakable. There was the option of breaking a window and trying to escape that way but he was unwilling to attempt that having seen the solid lock on the gate and the high, unclimbable walls of the garden. He would only wind up getting himself injured. It seemed he was entrapped here for the time being. Even that fate was beginning to seem more bearable. Yes, he grieved for his friends and the martyrdom that was taken from him, but Grantaire claimed that he was willing to give full control of himself to him. The truth of that remained to be seen but it wasn't entirely out of character for Grantaire, who seemed to be unhealthily fixated on him. However, this afforded him the perfect opportunity to avenge their deaths while at the same time regaining some measure of the control that had been taken from him.

He must admit to himself as well that he had enjoyed the sight of Grantaire on his knees before him. He has never before lied to himself and he will not allow himself to acquire the habit now. There had been something pleasing about seeing the man he had come to hate willingly debase himself before him. He knew that this form of vengeance was not something he would have dreamt of allowing before but now it seemed perfectly justified. What Grantaire had done had not been fair so neither would he be.

He intended to be harsh towards Grantaire, as proven by the implements he had sent him out to get. Such purchases would be difficult to explain he knew and he felt a thrill of pleasure at the though of Grantaire having to purchase them. The picture that presented was quite satisfying: Grantaire humiliated, buying the implements that would later be used to torment him, simultaneously embarrassed over the purchases and picturing the many ways in which they could be put to use.

He settled down to wait for Grantaire with thoughts of all the things he could do with the man once he had returned.

* * *

Grantaire had bought all but two of the items on Enjolras' list with various amounts of difficulty and embarrassment; embarrassment he had only managed to coach himself through with the thought that he was doing this for _Enjolras_ and he must not disappoint him.

The last two items he had to acquire were more difficult and he had left them until last for this very reason. They were not something that he could acquire quickly without arousing suspicion from respectable vendors. Such things were usually made to order. If he was to have them today he would have to see someone much less reputable. Fortunately, he knew such a man. Such unfavourable contacts had been required to provide the guns and ammunition for the barricade.

Bertrand was not difficult to find if one knew where to look for him. It took Grantaire only three attempts to find the right darkened alley.

"Good day, Bertrand."

"Who're you?"

"Do you not remember? You sold me a fair amount of guns and powder about a month and a half ago."

Recognition lit in the mans eyes.

"Go away. I ain't selling to revolutionaries no more, s'to much bother with the police."

"Surely illegal arms already puts you in trouble with the police?"

"Yeah but after all that business with the barricade they started askin' questions 'round 'ere, di'nt they? Usually leave me be but after that they started takin' note."

"Well, you're safe with me my friend. It's not guns I want but something much less deadly. Nor am I a revolutionary anymore, if I ever was."

That admission still racked him with guilt but he took care not to let it show on his face. Bertrand considered him a moment but evidently found him satisfactory.

"What's it ya want then?"

"A bullwhip[1]. And a martinet[2]. I need them by today."

"Got an errant child 'ave ya? I can get 'em. It'll cost extra if ya want 'em so soon though."

Grantaire bristled and coloured at the implication. For Enjolras, you are doing this for Enjolras.

"Something like that."

"Well, come back here in an hour. I'll 'ave what ya want. For a considerable sum, o'course."

"You'll have your money. Thank you."

Grantaire departed. With nothing to do for an hour but wander his thought's turned to Enjolras once more. Being parted from his Apollo, even to do something he had been asked to by him, was making him very anxious. What if Enjolras had need of him and he was not there? What if he found himself in some sort of trouble and Grantaire could not aid him? Such thoughts tormented him. Still, he could not go back having disobeyed. He would stay obtain what Enjolras wished and then fly back to Enjolras' side as swiftly as he could when he had done so.

As for what awaited him when he returned, well, the items on Enjolras' list gave him an idea of what to expect. He accepted it as no more than his due and besides, what did his discomfort matter in the face of Enjolras' wishes? It was, he told himself, discomfort that he felt, that caused his stomach to flutter so. Discomfort and not anticipation. Anticipation would mean that his punishment would turn into something he would enjoy and that might upset Enjolras. He wasn't supposed to enjoy being punished. So it must be discomfort he is feeling.

He wandered thus until it was time to head back to the alley. Once he had received the whips and had handed over an extortionate amount of money for them, which he could not bring himself to protest since he was anxious to get home, he turned his footsteps back towards his residence. He took care to hide his purchases inside his jacket and not to walk to quickly so as not to draw attention. He would be back with Enjolras soon.

* * *

Grantaire returned to find Enjolras still in the same chair he had been when he had left. He found himself uncertain once again as to whether he should approach Enjolras or wait to be acknowledged first. He found himself hesitating in the doorway.

"You've returned." Grantaire made his way into the room at the acknowledgement, thankful the decision had been taken from him.

"Yes. I have what you asked for."

"Good." Such a simple word but how it made Grantaire's heart soar. Good. He done well, Enjolras was pleased. It was hardly a fervent commendation but still, it was more than he'd ever earned from Enjolras before.

"Is there anything else you would have me do?"

"Go to my bedroom, lay them out on the bed. Then take off your clothes and kneel next to it and wait for me."

"Yes, Enjolras."

Enjolras allowed around ten minutes to pass before he went up to join Grantaire. He was gratified to find Grantaire waiting exactly as he had instructed. He did not acknowledge the man but merely went to inspect the items on the bed. Surprisingly, Grantaire had managed to acquire all that he had asked for. He moved the items into one of the draws in a nearby chest of draws, leaving only the bullwhip and two lengths of rope on the bed.

"Go stand at the end of the bed." This order was still given without Enjolras actually turning to look at Grantaire and Grantaire burned under his indifference, even while doing as he was told.

The bed was a four-poster one, made of ornately carved mahogany and silk curtains. Enjolras hated it, as his did all indecent displays of wealth. They reminded him of the injustice in the world. That one man could live in such obscene luxury while another starved on the street. He had to admit though, the bed had at least one merit, it was ideally suited to tying someone to.

Enjolras secured Grantaire's arms above his head, one to each post at the end of the bed, so that his arms were stretched out but his feet were still firmly on the floor.

"You shall have eleven lashes, one for each of our friends who died because of you and one for your imprisonment of me. You will say one of their names for each lash. When you look at the scars I want you to remember how you betrayed them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Enjolras."

With no further warning Enjolras brought the whip down viciously across Grantaire's back, immediately drawing blood and making the bound man cry out.

"Combeferre."

Another lash, another cry.

"Courfeyrac."

A strip of white hot pain right across his shoulders.

"Jehan."

Two in quick succession, identical diagonal lines crossing over each other.

"Bossuet. Joly."

A blindly hard strike underneath his ribs now.

"Bahorel."

Another swiftly administered on the other side to match.

"Feuilly."

Unexpectedly back at his shoulder, he felt tears on his face now.

"Gavroche."

Two more harsh strikes dealt together, he could hear Enjolras breathing harshly behind him now.

"Marius. Eponine."

The last one seemed the hardest somehow, though Enjolras put no more strength behind it than the others.

"You."

Enjolras dropped the bullwhip to the floor and stared at the sight before him, mesmerised. It was strangely thrilling to see this and know that he was the cause. To see Grantaire before him bleeding, because he willed it so, and to know that if he decided to continue now Grantaire would let him. Would probably thank him for taking the time to do so. He went to release Grantaire from his bonds and as the man fell back to his knees Enjolras noticed something.

"This arouses you?" he asked coldly, with an undercurrent of anger in his tone. Grantaire glanced down at himself and winced before looking back up at Enjolras with pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry, I should be able to control myself better I know, I'm so sorry."

"I don't think you should be gaining pleasure from being punished. What, was that why you offered to obey me? To gain some twisted sexual satisfaction? Disgusting."

"No please, you must believe me. I only want to please you, that is all. Please, let me make amends. I will do anything, please, only don't go back to ignoring me, don't." Grantaire's tears, barely ceased from the whipping, sprang free once more at the thought that he had disgusted Enjolras so much that the man might return to ignoring his presence and refusing food once more.

"You'll do anything anyway."

Grantaire did not deny the claim, merely knelt there crying and shaking, gazing up at Enjolras with pleading eyes. Eventually, Enjolras gave in with a sigh.

"Fine. You will not touch yourself though. It would not do for you to gain pleasure or relief from this. You will not touch yourself now, or ever, without my permission."

"Thank you," said Grantaire, overcome with relief and gratitude. He leant down and pressed a reverent kiss to Enjolras' boots. "Thank you, truly."

He then glanced up at Enjolras shyly and seemed to gather his courage.

"I know I do not deserve it but might I be permitted to bring you some relief?"

"What?"

"Please? I could be so good for you, I could do it so well." He nodded his head towards Enjolras' crotch. He hadn't realised at all but it seemed that he was just as aroused as Grantaire. What to do about that?

 **Some feedback on this would be massively appreciated since I switched to both their points of view and would like to know how well that's going down. Also if you have any question feel free to ask because I'm not completely satisfied with how I explained some of what E and R are feeling. Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So here's 5000 words of Enjolras being mean to Grantaire. Literally, that's all this is. There was going to be plot but then it got too long.**

This was not an entirely new situation for Enjolras. He had been aroused before, had felt that desperate need for release. Not often, but it was not unknown. However, he had never felt it quite this strongly before. Usually he would take care of such base urges himself, when the need arose, wanting nothing so insignificant as a lover to distract him from his cause. Now though, he had his cause no longer, and here was Grantaire, on his knees and begging to pleasure him. Why should he refuse?

The problem was that he did not want to give Grantaire what he wanted, and he clearly wanted this very much. No, he wanted the man to suffer, not to be rewarded. But why should he deny himself just to punish Grantaire? Hadn't the drunkard taken enough from him already? A compromise then.

"No, you may not pleasure me. You don't deserve that, you haven't earned it." Grantaire bowed his head but did not protest, despite his disappointment. It was not for him to question his Apollo's will. He who would always be the lesser, the slave grovelling at his feet, now literally instead of merely figuratively.

"You may watch, however, as I pleasure myself," Enjolras said, as he walked across the room and took a seat in the armchair by the window. Grantaire's entire face lit up as if he had been given some great reward. He fixed his attention raptly across the room on Enjolras, while breathing a reverent "thank you" that somehow still made its way to Enjolras' ears. He barely blinked as Enjolras opened his trousers and began to stroke himself slowly. His eyes were not fixed on that movement though, but on Enjolras' face, watching every flicker of pleasure that went across it with a delighted expression, as if it were he himself who felt it.

Enjolras, in turn, was focused on Grantaire. He gazed upon his kneeling form with an air of satisfaction. He admired him like one might a prized possession. Thoughts ran across his mind, things he could have Grantaire do. He had no doubt that whatever he ordered, he would be obeyed. But Grantaire seemed to be enjoying this a little too much, so…

"I've changed my mind, you are not permitted to watch. Look away."

Grantaire looked down immediately, with a small, upset expression on his face. He was disappointed not to be allowed to watch anymore, of course, but he was more worried that in his watching he had done something to upset Enjolras, or make this less enjoyable for him. He continued to gaze down at the floor in front of him, his own aching member within his view. But it would do no good to think about that; he'd already disgusted Enjolras enough for one day.

Enjolras saw where his gaze was directed and was inspired.

"Does it make you ache, Grantaire? To know that I am getting relief and you will not? Ah, I can see you throb and twitch even now. Does it excite you, that I am taunting you? Disgusting. You're worse than the most shameless of streetwalkers, aren't you? Answer me."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I'm disgusting, I don't deserve to be in your presence, I'm sorry." He was frantic, he knew how revolting he was, he always had, but now Enjolras knew it as well. He would surely want nothing to do with him now, would go back to ignoring him.

"Is that what you're going to be for me, Grantaire? My little whore?" He was stroking faster now, getting excited at the desperation of the man before him.

"Yes, your whore, your slave, the dog grovelling at your feet. Anything you want, Enjolras, anything. I swear it." He nearly slipped up here, nearly tore his gaze up from the floor, desperate to check Enjolras' expression, but caught himself in time.

Enjolras was close now, and struck with the perfect idea of what he wanted to do to Grantaire.

"Come here. Crawl," he ordered. Grantaire scrambled to obey, losing any grace he might have put into his actions in his haste. He knelt at the base of the chair, at Enjolras' feet, but still did not look up; he did not have permission.

"Look at me," Enjolras snarled, gripping Grantaire's hair and the back of his head with his free hand and pulling viciously, so that Grantaire was forced to tilt his head back. They locked eyes.

"I'm going to spend all over your face. Would you like that, whore?"

"Yes, Enjolras. Please," Grantaire gasped breathlessly.

"Quiet, close your mouth. I said this was going on your face, you don't get the privilege of tasting it."

Grantaire closed his mouth with a small whine as Enjolras stroked faster, finally coming to his climax and spending all over Grantaire's face.

Enjolras released Grantaire's hair and sat back in the chair, allowing himself a few moments to enjoy the aftermath of his orgasm and to compose himself. Grantaire though that he'd never looked more beautiful, relaxed and more content than he'd been since he had woken up in this house. He would be glad to stay like this forever, just gazing at his Apollo in all his sublime glory. Alas, the moment ended too soon as Enjolras roused himself.

"Clean yourself up and then get out and leave me be."

* * *

The next day Grantaire did not see Enjolras at all. He waited until evening, but Enjolras did not quit his bedroom, leaving Grantaire anxious. He hadn't eaten all day. Surely things hadn't gone back to the way they were before? He resolved to go check on Enjolras, to try to get him to eat.

* * *

Enjolras felt sick every time he looked over at the stain at the foot of the bed. He spent the entire day in the armchair, placed resolutely facing away from the stain. He fluctuated back and forth in opinion. Was what he had done absolutely right, or were they the actions of a monster? He did not know.

He pictured this happening to any other man and he felt sickened, yet when he remembered last night all that was stirred in him was satisfaction and lust. Perhaps that was were his disquiet stemmed from? The fact that he felt he should feel ashamed, but could not find it in himself to. Yet, if he did not feel ashamed, then surely he had done nothing wrong? He wished he had Combeferre to- No! He would not think of that, he could not. He would break if he did. And there was his answer, wasn't it? There was no punishment he could dole out, nothing within his many varied imaginings that could make amends for that loss.

There was a knock at his door.

He did not hesitate before going to answer it. He had made his decision. He wrenched the door open and Grantaire faltered.

"Yes? I thought I told you not to bother me."

"I- You did but-"

"But you thought you'd ignore me."

"I- I'm sorry. You haven't eaten today. I made stew, I came to see if you would eat some?"

Enjolras considered and Grantaire wondered if he should start begging, Enjolras seemed to like it when he did that.

"Fine, I will."

"Than-"

"There's a stain on the carpet from our evening yesterday," said Enjolras coldly. "Take care of it."

"Of course."

Grantaire stepped back as Enjolras walked past him without another word.

It was entirely humiliating, Grantaire thought as he scrubbed the carpet in Enjolras' bedroom, to be made to scrub ones own blood from the floor. The thought was not unappealing, which was a problem on its own. He was hard again, kneeling there on the floor, and he couldn't let Enjolras see him in such a state. He'd be so disgusted. The stain seemed to be gone now; it was possible that some still remained but was hidden by the red of the carpet.

"Pathetic." This came from Enjolras, who was now stood in the doorway.

"Don't you think? That you're pathetic that is." He said it almost casually, as though it were nothing. Which, Grantaire supposed, it was. He already knew how Enjolras viewed him.

"Well? Do you?"

"Yes," he answered quietly.

"Good, it's best that you know it." He glanced down at the patch Grantaire had been scrubbing. "Are you done?"

"Yes, unless you'd have me dry it as well?"

"No. Follow me." With that he turned and went downstairs, not looking to see if Grantaire followed. He knew he was unable to refuse him anything.

Grantaire found Enjolras in the parlour, sitting in the armchair that Grantaire had come to think of as his. He did not hesitate this time before going to kneel at Enjolras' feet. He knew what would be expected from him.

"Good." Grantaire doubted Enjolras knew just what that minuscule bit of praise meant to him. He'd do anything just to earn that.

"You're aroused again." There was nothing in Enjolras' voice to give away how he felt about this, but Grantaire remembered his disgusted reaction yesterday.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to do better, I promise. I cannot stop my reaction, but I will not pleasure myself unless you allow it, you have my word."

"Do you think I'll allow it?"

"No. As you said, I shouldn't be drawing pleasure from this."

"So you are content to stay in a state of perpetual sexual frustration because I told you to?"

"Yes Enjolras, surely you must know by now that I would do anything you told me to."

"Fetch me the book on the desk."

Grantaire did so, crawling there and back. Unlike last time he moved slowly enough to be graceful, it unsettled Enjolras a little how much he enjoyed watching. He took the book from Grantaire.

"I did not tell you to crawl."

"No," said Grantaire, bowing his head, "I thought you might like it. I'm sorry if I displeased."

He hadn't, not exactly. If anything he'd pleased too much. He did not know if he should reprimand or not, so he remained silent. Grantaire took this silence to mean that he had indeed displeased, and he felt the weight of sudden anxiety at the thought.

"Is there anything else I can do for you? Please, give me some small task? Anything that would please you. Please?"

"Touch yourself for me."

Grantaire started.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I don't think I heard correctly."

"I told you to touch yourself, and you heard me perfectly. Don't waste my time."

Grantaire was too taken aback to obey.

"But- why?"

Enjolras struck him across the face. It didn't hurt very much, merely stung a little. A trifle after what had been done to him last night. Yet there was something degrading in the casualness of it. Enjolras seemed entirely unaffected yet it left Grantaire with his prick throbbing and desperate for touch. Which it seemed it was being granted.

"I told you not to waste my time. Touch yourself. Now."

Grantaire complied without comprehending why he was suddenly being allowed this. He took himself out of his trousers and began stroking slowly, his eyes watching Enjolras' face warily, looking for a sign that this wasn't the right thing to do. Enjolras simply opened the book that he'd had Grantaire fetch, Le rouge et la noir, and began reading. When he reached the bottom of the first page, as he turned the page he remarked idly:

"I said you could touch yourself; I did not say you could have release. Do not allow yourself to reach climax." Grantaire felt his prick twitch and throb in his hand at that thought. He was to be left desperate and frustrated then, because it pleased Enjolras for him to be so.

They continued on thus, for what felt like years to Grantaire, stroking on his cock and trying desperately to not let himself release. At one point during this torturous experience he go too close and had needed to let go.

"I did not give you permission to stop," said Enjolras, idly, not even looking up from his book.

Grantaire let out a shaky breath before taking his cock once more in hand and stroking. It was, perhaps, ten minutes later when Grantaire began to beg. He had been stroking progressively slower and slower, trying desperately to not go over the edge, no matter how much his prick was straining for release. He would not disappoint Enjolras.

"Please Enjolras, please let me stop. I can't continue, I'm so close. I feel as if I'll go over with each stroke. Please, have mercy, let me stop." He was practically sobbing now, but still his hand continued moving, however slowly.

"Perhaps," said Enjolras leisurely, "perhaps I'll let you stop. What will you do for me in return?"

"Anything. Enjolras please, you know I'll always do anything you wish, please."

"No. Give me specifics, entertain me. What will you do?"

"I'll- I'll kiss your feet. Black your boots. I'll lay down and let- let you whip me, or use me. Please Enjolras, please!"

"You'll let me, you say. Do you pretend you would take no pleasure from those things?"

"No! I- I would. I would beg for them even without this. Please Enjolras, I know you have no interest in me beyond hurting me, and I deserve it, I know. But if y- you want to know things I wouldn't enjoy, I can think of nothing. I would enjoy everything simply because I know it pleases you to do it."

Enjolras sighed.

"Very well, you may stop."

Grantaire let go of himself with a gasp. His prick twitched and throbbed in the air.

"Thank you," Grantaire said, bowing his head. "I'm sorry, I should have been able to suffer longer for you. I should not have begged, I have no right to ask anything of you."

"You do not, but begging is how one asks for something they have no right to ask for. Otherwise they may demand it, if they have the right."

Grantaire did not know how to answer that. Enjolras was confirming neither that he did right nor wrong.

"Now, I would have release. Since you were so entertaining fighting against your release, I'll let you use your mouth."

Grantaire froze, hardly daring to breath. He remained very still and barely managed to utter a whispered confirmation:

"I'm allowed?"

"Yes. Get to it, you're trying my patience," Enjolras replied sharply.

Grantaire was still unsure, but he was pushed into action by the obvious irritation in Enjolras' voice. He quickly opened Enjolras' trousers and pulled his cock out. He glanced up quickly to check that Enjolras hadn't changed his mind before reverently taking him into his mouth. He could not believe he was being allowed to do this.

He had expected that Enjolras would curl a fist in his hair and use that to control him. He was so forceful of late, it seemed in keeping with that. He ought to have known better. Enjolras had never needed more than his voice to be completely in control of anyone who was listening. Merely the tone of it would be enough that Grantaire could not possibly think of disobeying, even if he had wanted to.

"Take me further in. Surely even you can do better than this?"

Grantaire obeyed, of course. He pushed further down, feeling Enjolras in the back of his throat, which he immediately relaxed. He would not choke. He had to be perfect, Enjolras deserved nothing less.

"Use your tongue."

He pulled back, swirling his tongue around the tip. This gained a low moan from Enjolras, a sound which sent shivers through Grantaire.

He carried on pleasuring Enjolras according to his exacting standards until Enjolras lost some of his habitual control and fisted his hand in Grantaire's hair, spending in his mouth.

Grantaire swallowed and continued suckling at Enjolras' cock until he was pulled off. As Enjolras recovered from his orgasm he was unaware that his hand remained in Grantaire's hair, reflexively stroking through it. Grantaire thought that he could not remember feeling more content in his entire life. This was all that he had ever wanted, to be allowed to make Enjolras happy, even if it was only for a moment. He ought to thank Enjolras profusely, but not now. Enjolras was enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm and Grantaire would not disturb him.

A while passed before Enjolras stirred himself, removing his hand from Grantaire's hair and tucking himself back into his trousers. That done he rested his arm on the armrest of the chair and Grantaire, feeling brave, leaned forwards and placed a worshipful kiss on the back of Enjolras' hand.

"Thank you, Enjolras, truly. That was- I cannot describe it. Thank you." He spoke in a hushed voice, as if speaking to loudly would break the paradise he seemed to have found himself in.

Enjolras looked down on the man at his feet and felt some strange affection stir in his chest, entirely unsettling him. The earnestness of that thanks moved him in a way he had not felt since before the barricade. He did not want to- No! He would not allow himself to soften towards Grantaire. The man was no better than a murderer; the blood that stained his hands must not be forgotten. And he was certainly a kidnapper. Enjolras could not forget for long that he was Grantaire's prisoner. That whatever Grantaire might allow him to do was exactly that: something that he was permitted. In reality, Grantaire had complete power over him for as long as he was trapped in this house.

"Be quiet. You may stay here if you are silent, if you can't accomplish that then go where you can't bother me."

Grantaire silently bowed his head in acquiescence. It was not enough, Enjolras needed to reduce Grantaire, to debase him, to show his control.

"Take off your clothes. I see no reason you should not be on display for me. That way I can simply reach over and pull or pinch and hurt you, should the mood strike me. It saves me needlessly expending energy on you. You'll not wear clothes anymore."

"Yes, Enjolras," said Grantaire, quickly taking his clothes off before kneeling back a Enjolras' feet. Enjolras reached over and viciously twisted one of his nipples.

"I told you to be silent. Can you not do anything right?"

Grantaire bit back a whimper and, when Enjolras let go, he pressed his forehead to the ground in a wordless apology.

* * *

They continued thus for a week without incident. Grantaire spent his days at Enjolras feet, and was content with his lot. Enjolras acted out cruelly, seemingly never bored with tormenting Grantaire, with testing his obedience. By far his favourite thing to do was to have Grantaire bring himself to the edge of orgasm and then stop. Enjolras would make him repeat this, over and over again, until he could do nothing but beg for a reprieve. Whether Enjolras took any notice or not was subject to his mood at the time. If he was feeling cruel enough then Grantaire would continue for hours, begging and pleading to be allowed to stop, but not even once contemplating begging for release. He knew Enjolras wished him to be frustrated, so he did not even think to ask for something that was against Enjolras wishes. He already felt horribly guilty when he begged to stop. He felt he should be able to do as he was told without question and yet in this particular torment he knew that if he continued to do as he was told he might well end up going over the edge accidentally and disobeying. There was no good answer, and he was disappointing Enjolras either way. He truly hated it when Enjolras ordered him to edge.

With such relentless torment it was only a matter of time really, before Grantaire slipped up. In fact, Enjolras had been purposely pushing, waiting for it. The fact that it was expected though didn't lessen the horror that Grantaire felt upon waking covered in his own release. It seemed he couldn't obey even the most basic of commands, he couldn't even deny himself this one trifling thing for Enjolras. He was pathetic, disgusting, revolting, and Enjolras was going to be so angry with him. The thought of not telling him didn't even cross Grantaire's mind, he had done wrong and he had to be punished for it.

He cleaned himself up and stripped the bed of its sheets so that he could wash them. That done, he went to Enjolras' door and knelt there to wait for him to wake. He would confess his crime and beg for punishment. He could only hope that he would be forgiven.

He didn't look up as he heard Enjolras' door open. He heard his Apollo stop in surprise before asking:

"What are you doing?"

"I orgasmed without permission in the night. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry Enjolras. Please punish me?"

"Look at me."

Grantaire complied, his eyes darting up to Enjolras' face as soon as he was given permission, wanting to see how angry he was.

"What you are saying is that you could not control yourself, even though I told you that you weren't to have release? That you wilfully went against my wishes when you swore to obey me?"

"I'm sorry, I was asleep, I didn't mean-"

"And now you are trying to excuse it!" Enjolras talked over him angrily.

"I'm sorry." Grantaire all but whispered with tears in his eyes.

"You disgust me. Get out of my sight," he said viciously.

"No, please! Anything but that, anything!" He was really crying now, barely able to get the words out past his tears. Enjolras looked down on this pitiful creature and was moved despite himself.

"Fine. Follow me and be silent."

Grantaire followed, trying to quieten his tears since it appeared they annoyed Enjolras.

He was lead to the parlour where Enjolras seated himself, not in the armchair like Grantaire expected, but at the desk. Before he could kneel down beside him Enjolras spoke.

"Go to the kitchen and fetch a cup of rice."

Grantaire complied, a little confused but eager to make up for his mistake all the same.

"Spread it out in the corner and kneel on it. I'll tell you when you can get up."

He then proceeded to ignore Grantaire completely, immersing himself in the same book as before.

It hurt. It wasn't as immediate as the pain of being whipped. It started out as discomfort which progressed further into pain the longer he was left kneeling there. Every time he shifted a little attempting to ease his discomfort only made it hurt more. He did not know how long he had been kneeling, it felt like days. He wanted to beg Enjolras to let him stand up but he wouldn't. He was being punished and he would not allow himself to disappoint Enjolras again. He would take what he was given and take it gratefully, as Enjolras had already been beyond merciful in not banishing him from his presence earlier. He bit back his pained whimpers whenever he accidentally shifted and tried to remain still and silent for Enjolras, even though he could not see whether the man was watching him or not, facing the corner as he was.

It wasn't until he could not longer choke back his whimpers that Enjolras paid attention to him once more. He simply turned to watch Grantaire for a few minutes, observing him shifting and wincing, watching how he tried to be as quiet as possible. Finally, he grew bored and turned back to his book saying:

"You may stand."

Grantaire did, brushing off the rice that stuck to his skin. When he had done he looked uncertainly towards Enjolras, wanting to say something but not wanting to disturb him. Finally Enjolras sighed and looked up at him.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for punishing me, Enjolras. I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"I don't care for your apologies, I want to make sure it never happens again. Clean up the rice and then get dressed; you're going out."

"Yes, Enjolras."

When he returned downstairs to ask where he was to go and why, he was handed a piece of paper with a roughly drawn diagram and an address on it. It was clear to Grantaire what the device [1] was: a cage to lock his cock in so that getting hard would be painful, and even then he couldn't do anything about it if he was hard.

"First go to a jewellers and acquire a chain to go about my neck. Then go to the address written there and have this made. The blacksmith there is discrete, if not tactful. He will wish to measure you; you will allow him to."

"You have had such a device made before?" Grantaire asked hesitantly.

"No. Courfeyrac had- he-" Enjolras found he could not continue past the constriction in his throat and tears in his eyes. Grantaire saw this and though that the pain in his chest at his Apollo's tears was worst than anything Enjolras could do to him.

"Forgive me," he choked out past his own tears. "I should not have inquired."

"Go," said Enjolras, unable to regain his composure.

* * *

The trip to the jeweller passed uneventfully and Grantaire had acquired a very fine white gold chain for Enjolras. He barely flinched when the jeweller, obviously trying to clinch the sale, had said that his "young lady" was certain to adore it.

The blacksmiths though was an ordeal, undoubtedly. Having found the man and presented him with the drawing, he was forced to admit that the device would be used on him so that it might be sized properly. He then had to suffer through the leers and allusions that the blacksmith made while measuring him. The most humiliating thing was that there was nothing overtly sexual about his taunts. They were focused on humiliating him, not seducing him. Then the man proclaimed that he could come back in a few hours to pick up the device.

He wandered for a while before finding himself at a café he used to frequent. There he sat and drank coffee only. He had not drank wine since the barricade, it would not do to be drunk when Enjolras had need of him. He passed the hours he had to wait there, thinking of the change in his situation since that time. He could not say that he was worse off now. It may be that Enjolras hated him, but at least he was allowed to be close to him. By doing what Enjolras told him to he knew that he was pleasing him. He was contributing in some small way towards Enjolras' happiness. He sat remembering those few times that Enjolras had told him he'd done well until it was time to go back to the blacksmith's and get what he'd ordered. After a few more humiliating comments and being presented with the device and key, Grantaire set off home to Enjolras.

* * *

It was evening by the time Grantaire arrived back home, and he found Enjolras in much the same position he had been in when Grantaire left this morning. He was at the desk, bent determinedly over the book. He had been forcing himself to read, to avoid unpleasant thoughts. A single candle was all that illuminated the room.

Grantaire immediately went to his side and knelt, presenting the objects he'd acquired.

"Good, well done. Strip."

Grantaire took his clothes off quickly, practically shining at the praise.

"Stand up, I'm going to put this on you."

As he stood Grantaire tried not to think about having his cock locked up and out of his control too much. If he did, he'd become aroused and Enjolras wouldn't be able to put the device on, and then he'd be angry. He felt the cold metal against him and held Enjolras' eyes as the lock was clicked shut.

"There, now I don't have to worry about you being unable to control yourself," said Enjolras, taking the key to the lock and slipping it on the chain, which he then placed around his neck. He though it appropriate, that Grantaire had his locks and keys to control him, and now he had the same in return.

"Go make us both something to eat," said Enjolras

"Of course, what would you like?"

"I don't care, something quick."

They ended up eating boiled chicken and steamed vegetables. As the meal cooked Grantaire went about lighting the rest of the candles so that Enjolras would not strain his eyes while he read. Enjolras continued to pour over the book. Enjolras took his meal at the desk, Grantaire took his kneeling at Enjolras' feet, his knees recovered from their torment that morning.

When they were finished Enjolras retired to reading on the sofa, while Grantaire went to clean up in the kitchen. After a few moments he heard Enjolras call him.

He returned to the parlour.

"Yes, Enjolras?"

"My eyes are sore, come read to me."

"Of course," he said, abandoning the cleaning and going to kneel by Enjolras. Enjolras handed him the book and then laid out on the sofa. Grantaire started at having Enjolras' head so close to his; if he had dared, he could reach out touch Enjolras' perfect, golden hair. It seemed wrong somehow, to see his Apollo is such a relaxed position.

"Well? Get on with it," snapped Enjolras.

"Yes, sorry," said Grantaire as he opened the book to the page that had been marked. "C'est la violente impression du laid sur une âme faite pour aimer ce qui est beau. [2]"

Once Grantaire had started reading Enjolras relaxed and closed his eyes and it struck Grantaire how strangely domestic this scene was. Despite the fact that he was naked and kneeling at Enjolras' feet, this was something that young lovers might do. Not that he would ever presume that he could be such a thing to Enjolras. Still, the strange intimacy of this scene was pleasant, and left him feeling light and a little hopeful inside.

[1] An image of a cock cage if you don't know what one looks like: /images/I/51Vj2D5aRxL._SY300_.jpg

[2] Translation: It is the violent impression of ugliness on a soul made to love that which is beautiful. From La rouge et la noir by Stendhal.

 **Please leave a comment to let me know what you think. Also, let me know if you spot any mistakes. As thorough as I try to be with proof reading, there are always some mistakes that slip through. I've just had to fix some on the last**


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